


Cailan

by Saphir



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 20:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7859221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saphir/pseuds/Saphir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why does Cassandra's cat hate Varric?  And why does Cassandra refuse to see it?  Can you reason with a cat?  Does bribery work?  And...if all else fails, is it actually possible to perform an exorcism on a cat?</p><p>The answer to all these questions, plus advice on the best hangover remedies, the type of attire college students most prefer, and hilarious Cold War allusions can can be found inside!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MRTL85](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MRTL85/gifts).



> Thank you, mrtl85, for allowing me to use Cailan in my story. He is simply awesome.

Cassandra hefted her slender bag on her shoulder, and then bent down once more.

"Good bye," she murmured against his lips. "You know I will be back as soon as I can get things settled."

"I know," Varric said, forcing a cheerfulness in his voice he did not feel. "You'll be here again before you know it. In fact, I'm already looking forward to the reunion sex." He waggled his eyebrows with one of his patented lady-killer grins.

Cassandra drew back and rolled her eyes. "You are--"

"Handsome? Charming? Witty? Your stud muffin? Your boy toy? Your--"

"You are too vain for your own good," Cassandra said with finality, pursing her lips, but he could see the grin struggling to break free, despite her best efforts. She gave him another quick peck on his cheek before opening the door. "I will call you when I get there."

On her way out, she turned again. "I want to say thank you so much for agreeing to watch Cailan. I know you two don't get along well, but I know you'll take care of him. It's a weight off my mind with everything else that's going on. Don't forget, only feed him his special organic cat food, and extra litter is in the bathroom closet, and--"

She had already told him all of this twice. And written it down, for good measure.

He interrupted her with a smile. "You're going to miss your flight if you don't get going."

"You are right." She sighed. "I guess I am just delaying because I do not wish to leave." She stroked her palm across his cheek. "I love you, Varric. Good-bye."

And before he could respond, she stepped firmly outside, shutting the door.

 _I love you, Varric_. That was the first time she had ever said those words.

He began to feel a rising tide of nervousness that threatened to choke him. Love. It was a big thing. He wished she hadn't brought that into it. In his experience, once relationships began to get serious, things got messy. People started expecting things, and then he would disappoint them, and there would be fights, and arguments, and they'd end up hating each other before it was all over.

He liked Cassandra. He cared about her.  But love? He wasn't sure.  He had loved Bianca, and look how that turned out.

But before he could think too much on it, he heard a baleful meow.

He turned around to face his doom: a handsome, cream-colored tabby.

***

Cassandra was not typically a woman given to delusions. She faced the world and everyone in it with as much honesty as anyone Varric had ever seen.

But she seemed to labor under the misapprehension that Cailan was a sweet, well-behaved cat.

Varric knew better.

He didn't have a problem with cats. Sure, he wasn't a cat person per se, but they were fine. His family had even had a cat when he was a kid. It was a nice thing, affectionate.

But this cat was different. This cat disliked him on sight.

He suspected it the first time Cailan jumped on him on the couch, and Varric reached out to pet him. Cailan looked straight into his eyes and sneezed in his face.

"Oh Varric, I'm sorry!" Cassandra had exclaimed, handing him a tissue. "He had a respiratory infection as a kitten and sometimes still has problems."

"It's fine!" Varric had said with as much good humor as a man could muster while wiping cat sneeze off of his face. "Just one of those things."

"It's all right, Cailan," Cassandra said, picking up the cat and cooing at him. "Accidents happen."

His recollection of what happened next might be colored by subsequent events. But Varric didn't think so.

He would swear Cailan looked over at him and smiled.

***

If Varric was in any doubt after that, Cailan soon dispelled the notion.

The first night Varric had stayed over at Cassandra's was heaven. And he might have been forgiven for paying less attention than usual while getting dressed.

But he would never forget pulling on his shoe, and his sleep and pleasure-addled mind quickly registering there was something very very wrong. Something wrong that was cold and squishy and furry, and located next to his big toe.

Varric had shrieked and thrown the shoe across the room.

Cassandra, summoned by Varric's urgent cry, quickly sized up the situation. "Oh Varric," Cassandra said, inspecting his shoe, "Cailan was just trying to leave you a present. He must like you."

She shifted her attention to the cat. "Yes, you are a great hunter, but no more mice," she said reprovingly. She wagged her finger at him. "We've talked about this before. Besides," she said in a conspiratorial whisper, "I don't think Varric likes them."

 _Meow_ , the cat agreed.

Cassandra burst into giggles.

"It's not funny!" Varric protested. "You start the day off with a dead mouse in your shoe and see how you like it!"

"I am sorry," Cassandra said, calming down and wiping her eyes. "But you should have heard the noise you made!" She caught Varric's eye, snorted, and then started giggling again.

Cailan looked at Cassandra, then at Varric. He swished his tail and then calmly started grooming his back.

***

Cailan then took to occasionally rubbing himself on Varric's legs.

Cassandra thought it was sweet. Even Varric was ready to admit that maybe, just maybe, he had imagined everything. After all, cats sneezed. They hunted. Maybe it was just all a coincidence. Maybe he had an over-active imagination. Maybe he was seeing ill-intent where there was none. Maybe he had a persecution complex.

But Varric began to notice something very odd. Cailan only did it when he was wearing dark trousers. Trousers that would then be coated in lovely, cream-colored cat hair.

He didn't believe it at first.

But no. He tested it. Any time he wore khakis or shorts or his old stone-washed jeans, Cailan ignored him. But if he was wearing black or navy blue? Cailan latched onto him like a homing beacon.

When he tried to point this out to Cassandra, she had brushed him off. "Just one of the perils of owning a cat! Cat hair does get everywhere. I'll get you something for it."

She purchased something called a "Pet-Hair Pickup" for him and put it in his car.

Varric did not want a Pet-Hair Pickup.

He wanted Cassandra to have a nice cat. A cat that didn't have it in for him. Was that too much to ask?

***

Varric learned. He wore shorts in the middle of winter and told people he had a fast metabolism and didn't feel the cold. Most of the time, his legs weren't blue while he was saying it.

He also learned not to leave any of his clothes laying on the dresser when he spent the night. Cailan would end up sleeping on the collars of his shirts, and Pet-Hair Pickup or not, Varric would end up spitting out cat hair the next day.

It got to the point where he had thought he had finally gotten the hang of things and Cailan had given up.

Varric was wrong. Very, very wrong.

He had been invited to give a lecture at the local university on character development. (That is to say he was invited to speak on developing well-rounded fictional persons. Not actual character development, like resilience and shit, which nobody would ever ask him to do. Although now that he thought about it, how funny would it be to pretend to misunderstand the next invitation?)

He had hung up his suit in the closet the night before and thought nothing more of it until the next morning. But when he went to reach for it, he gasped. His trousers had been styled with sharp claws to bear a remarkable resemblance to confetti. There were just little strips of hanging cloth from the knee down. And his tie! His new silk tie he had purchased just for the event, the tie he had spent an ungodly amount of money on, the tie in the bright colors he loved--it was missing, presumed dead.

(Varric had found it later that week behind Cailan's cat box.)

"I am sorry," Cassandra said, biting her lip, looking upset for once. "I can't believe Cailan would do this!"

Varric had felt a blossoming of hope. Perhaps this whole incident would be worth it if it finally opened her eyes--

"But it is my fault."

 _What_?

"He has scratched his old post into nothing, and I have been meaning to get a new one, but I never got around to it. He needed something to scratch, and I--" she shook her head. "This is due to my negligence. I am so incredibly sorry. I will buy you a new suit."

"It's fine," Varric had muttered, irritation melting at the distress on her face. "It's not a big deal."

"It is a big deal, but thank you for understanding," she had said, placing her arms around his neck and smiling gently at him. "And when we get you a new suit you will have to model it for me."

"Oh?"

"Yes. A private showing," she whispered in his ear, molding herself against him.

"We could have a preview right now," he returned, trailing his hands down her body.

When all was said and done, he had been late to the lecture, and worn the same rumpled, cat-hair covered clothes he had worn the previous night. He was mortified.

But no one seemed to notice. In fact, several of the students later commented they appreciated his "authenticity," whatever that was supposed to mean.

And he had enjoyed the modeling sessions more than he cared to admit. He had actually ended up purchasing two suits. One that looked good on him to replace the old one, and one that Cassandra had liked.

Really, really liked.

Well, now that he thought about it, that whole situation had turned out all right, but it was no thanks to Cailan.

  
***

He returned from his musings to the present.

He looked at Cailan, and Cailan looked at him.

After a while, it dawned on him that he was effectively having a staring contest with a cat. And losing.

He rubbed his hand over his face.

"Look, I don't like it any more than you do. But it's just for a month. We can do a month, right?"

Cailan flicked his tail at him and walked away.

Varric hoped that was a yes.

***

The first few days seemed to go well. Maybe they had finally reached their, "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!" moment.

(Varric savored that delightful allusion. He had been watching a documentary about the Cold War and _Boom_! there it was. He'd have to try it later and see if he still liked it as much.)

Then after a few days he noticed that Cailan wasn't eating. Varric would open a can of food for him in the morning, and it would still be sitting there at night when he went to clean it up. An untouched, hardened hockey puck of meat, $3 a can from Whole Foods, sitting in congealed gravy.

Varric ignored the situation at first. The damn cat would eat when he was hungry.

Then three days passed and Varric started to get slightly concerned. After five days, he was nervous. After a week, he panicked.

He didn't like the cat, but he didn't want him dead. (Well, not dead by his hand, anyway.)

He imagined how that conversation would go with Cassandra. _How was your trip? I'm so happy to see you again! Oh, by the way, did you notice something missing? A lingering air of malevolence? A seven pound furry ball of evil, perhaps?_

Yeah. That wouldn't end well.

He sighed and consulted the "in case of emergency" list Cassandra had so thoughtfully made for him, and dialed the vet.

***

The veterinarian was a very nice, motherly woman, who offered to bandage the scratches on his forearms. (Cassandra had once mentioned that Cailan didn't like going to the vet. Right. Cailan didn't like to go to the vet in the same way that it was a tiny, wee bit of a mistake to get involved in a land war in Asia.)

"There's nothing wrong with this cat," the vet finally said, after performing her examination.

"What?" Varric was incredulous. "He's not eating. Anything. At all."

"He's well-hydrated. He actually weighs a little bit more than he did the last time he saw us." The vet shrugged. "Animals don't always eat the same amount every day. Sometimes they're not hungry. Like people. Just make sure he always has plenty of water and he'll eat when he's ready."

She put Cailan back in his carrier.

"Is that it?" Varric asked in disbelief.

"Yes," she nodded. "Just see the front desk on your way out. And continue to monitor him, and if you see anything else concerning, just call us or bring him in again."

"Thanks for nothing," Varric muttered under his breath.

The vet raised an eyebrow. Obviously Varric did not mutter quietly enough. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Tethras?"

"Yeah," Varric said. "Do you know any priests?"

"What?" The vet looked non-plussed.

"I think I need an exorcism."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Never mind," Varric said, grabbing the carrier.

***

Varric clutched at his head, sitting at the kitchen table. He and Hawke had had a good time last night. Too good. Christ. He was getting old.

He remembered when he could go out partying, drink some water, swallow some aspirin before bed, and be right as rain the next morning.

That was twenty years ago of course, but...a man could hope.

Cailan chose that moment to enter the room, and walked over to inspect his food dish. He sniffed his organic, whole grain, no-meat-byproduct cat food that Varric faithfully presented every day.

He turned his back on it, and began to meow, balefully and piercingly. Varric's head throbbed. "Oh God, Cailan could you SHUT UP? There's food there."

Cailan, of course, hell-cat that he was, meowed louder.

The sound echoed around Varric's head and he groaned.

Eating. If he could choke it down. That was it. That would help.

He usually eschewed breakfast--eschewed waking up before noon, in fact--but nothing was better for a hangover that a greasy breakfast.

He rustled around in the refrigerator and took out bacon and eggs and somehow put them on to cook without vomiting. He rested his head against the cool of the counter as he waited.

 _Meow, meow, meow_. Varric closed his eyes and tried to ignore Cailan.

 _Meow_.

Varric wiped the drool from his lip. Shit. He had fallen asleep standing up.

He looked over at the frying pan, expecting a burnt mess, but...

Bacon was done. Eggs were done. Maybe a little over-done, but still fine.

He shook his head, immediately regretted the action, and got a plate and sat down heavily.

He picked his way through as much as he could. He stared at his last two pieces of bacon and his stomach gurgled. He was done.

 _Meow_.

Time to get a shower, brush his teeth. At least the room wasn't spinning anymore.

 _Meow_.

Varric got up and shuffled off to the shower, before realizing he should probably drink a little more water and have a little more medicine before starting his day. Couldn't hurt.

He came back to the kitchen to find Cailan sitting on the kitchen table, calmly eating his leftover bacon off his plate.

Cailan looked up at Varric unconcernedly, then went back to eating.

"I guess I should be pissed, but I don't even care anymore. At least you're eating something. Enjoy the bacon." Varric waved his hand and got his pills.

***

The next day, the routine repeated itself. Cailan didn't eat, meowed at his cat food, and drove Varric crazy.

"You're not getting anything else. The vet said you were fine."

 _Meow_.

"I mean it."

 _Meow_.

"You eat for Cassandra."

Meow.

Varric finally snapped and looked at Cailan. "Look, I get it. You hate me. I hate you. But guess what? No matter how big of an ass you are, no matter how many pants you shred, how many presents you leave in my shoes, or even if you make a pile of cat hair on my clothes big enough to be visible from space, I'm staying. I love her too. So we can either learn to get along somehow, or we can go right on hating each other and making each other's lives miserable."

He started with surprise as he realized what he had said. _I love her too_. His mind probed around the edges of the thought, testing it. _I love Cassandra_. It sounded...right.

Cailan looked at him and cocked his head like he was considering what Varric said.

Then he looked back at his food bowl.

 _Meow_.

"Fuck me, I'm trying to reason with a cat," Varric muttered to himself, rubbing his temples.

 _Meow_.

He had a pleasant fantasy of picking the cat up, throwing him outside, and locking the door behind him. Maybe the cat would find someone new to annoy.

 _You can't do that_ , his brain reminded him.

 _Maybe not, but I can certainly dream about it_ , he retorted.

 _Meow_.

Enough was enough. He shrugged. The cat ate the bacon yesterday, right? Maybe Cailan would eat it today. He pulled out the frying pan, dropped it onto the stove with a little more vehemence than entirely necessary, and began to fry it up.

Cailan glared at him, but stayed next to his food dish. Thankfully, at least the meowing stopped.

Varric used a paper towel to pat off the grease when a strip was done, and crumbled it on top of Cailan's cat food.

Cailan looked at him and said (well, not said, but Varric by now was a master at interpreting Cailan's stares) "Took you long enough, idiot."

"Are we talking about my feelings for Cassandra or about the bacon?"

Cailan just stared at him a little longer. _Guess_ the look said. Then he delicately leaned down and began to eat. Varric watched in astonishment as he ate not only the bacon, but when the bacon was done, all of his cat food.

After he was done licking the bowl, he came up to Varric and gently butted his head against Varric's hand and began to purr.

"Well, I'll be damned," Varric said, and began to scratch behind Cailan's ears.

***

"I missed you this month," Varric said, one arm tucked snugly around Cassandra, the other under his head. Sweat cooled on his brow.

"I missed you too," she murmured. "Couldn't you tell?" she teased, running her fingers through his chest hair.

Varric pretended to ponder. "I don't know," he said, the smile in his voice. "I think we might have to try again a few more times before I could say for sure."

"Ass," she said.

Varric chuckled and held her closer.

This past month he realized there was something missing whenever she wasn't around. He didn't need her, like he thought he needed Bianca. It was just that--Cassandra made him feel loved and safe and happy. Not the constant excitement and turmoil he had mistaken for love in the past. She was just part of his life that he had never known was missing, until now.

The best part.

"Varric," Cassandra said. "There is something I would like to ask." Her voice held a note of uncertainty.

He rubbed her side reassuringly. "Ask away."

"It is just that--I had some time to think while I was gone. I do not want you to go home. I mean, I want this to be your home, or maybe we could get a home together. And then we will not have to worry about when we will see each other next, or when you will be able to come over. I would like to go to bed together each night, and wake up to each other in the each morning. I mean--if you would like the same thing as well."

Varric exhaled and waited for the panic to set in.

But it wasn't there. The only thing he felt was happiness.

"I couldn't think of anything better," he said honestly, and kissed the tip of her nose. He took a deep breath. "I love you, Cassandra."

"I love you too," she said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, and curled her head into his neck.

A few minutes later a thought occurred to him. "Cass?" Varric said softly.

"Yes, love?" she said thickly turning her head, a bit of sleep in her voice.

"I was thinking," he said. "About Cailan."

"What about Cailan?" she answered, surprise in her voice.

"Do you think maybe Cailan would like some treats from time to time?"

"Treats aren't good for him. The cat food has everything he needs," Cassandra replied automatically. She yawned, and tucked her head back into his shoulder.

Varric thought. "Well, maybe once in a while?"

"It's unhealthy for him," Cassandra said, now sounding more than a touch irritated. "Why are you even asking this? We just made love, agreed to move in together, and now you are asking about Cailan's food? You're not making sense, and I had a long day, and I'm tired." The last part came out as a bit of a whine. "We can talk about this tomorrow."

"Oh you know me," Varric replied saucily. "Master of pillow talk."

Cassandra playfully smacked his shoulder, grumbled, settled herself back against him, and promptly fell asleep.

Varric curled his arm around her again and thought how damn lucky he was. This woman. This honest, beautiful, smart, sexy woman loved him. She wanted to live with him.

It was all perfect. More than he could have dreamed of.

There was only one problem. He sighed.

He supposed he'd have to cultivate a taste for breakfast. And bacon. And bribery.

He looked over at the woman beside him, and felt warmth blossom inside his chest and a feel of rightness and contentment wash over him.

He closed his eyes and had just drifted off to sleep, when--

 _Meow_.

"Dammit, Cailan, you are not getting up on this bed!"

***

He woke up early the next morning, light softly streaming in the window, to the woman he loved with her arms around him, and a disobedient cat curled against the top of his head.

He smiled and went back to sleep.

 


	2. Epilogue

The damn cat would have to die in February when the ground was frozen.

Because of course.

But as Cassandra had said, he lived a full life before he died at the ripe old age of fifteen.

"He was a good cat and I know he was happy with us...I should remember that," she said through her tears.

Varric had nodded, knowing Cassandra needed to grieve, but not trusting himself to speak at the thought of Cailan as a "good cat".

"I think it might be too cold for Cecile. If you would like to stay with her, I will go out--"

"It's all right," Varric shook his head, and leaned down to kiss the forehead of the tiny, perfect infant napping in her mother's arms. "She'll be waking up soon, and she'll be hungry. I'll take care of it."

Cassandra had nodded, and Varric had trudged outside, his warmest coat and gloves on, with a shoebox nestled under his arm, to the furthest corner of the backyard.

That was when it started sleeting.

Because of course.

It took him an hour, and a pick-axe, to get down far enough.

He placed the shoebox gently in the ground.

"Good-bye, Cailan. I know we didn't like each other very much, but we both loved her. I promise I'll take good care of her. And the little one too. I'm glad you got to meet each other."

He wouldn't forget when they had brought Cecile home from the hospital and placed her in her crib next to the bed. Varric had woken up in the middle of the night and rushed over to check on her, in the way of new parents, and there was Cailan sitting in the crib. Somehow, arthritic legs and all, he had found a way to get up to meet the new creature Varric and Cassandra had brought home with them.

 _Good thing I'm here_ , Cailan informed him. _She was cold_. And then he had lowered his head, curled himself next to her legs, swished his tail once, and began to purr.

Varric smiled at the memory.

"Oh yeah," he said, reaching into his pocket. "One more thing. I almost forgot." He pulled out the cold slice of bacon and crumbled it into the hole. "Our secret. I never told Cass."

He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat, and his eyes stung as the sleet continued to pour down on him, freezing every part of his body.

"Well. That's it, then," he said. He cleared his throat and bent his back to begin the lonely task of piling the earth from whence it came, with less than he had when he began.

By the time he was done, his hands and feet no longer had feeling in them except for occasional stabbing pain.

He tamped down the last bit of dirt, put the tools away, and turned to go inside.

All of a sudden, the clouds shifted, and the sleet stopped. A little bit of cold sunshine began to poke its way behind a gray cloud.

"You fucker," Varric shook his head with amusement as he walked across the yard. "Had to get me one last time, didn't you?"

His hand had just reached the door when sun burst forth from behind the cloud.

Then, softly, "I'll miss you too, buddy."


End file.
